Smoke and Sunflowers
by kaitlin-the-weirdo
Summary: RusLiet, mooostly, but also LietPol and unrequited PruHun. AmeLiet if you squint. Technically a collection of short stories set mostly in the past but they go together so. Warnings: Violence/gore also WWII in east Europe... and a few OCs
1. Conversations

Ivan sat at his desk with a sigh. Every day, there was cause for a new headache. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to will the migraine away.

It didn't work.

He supposed he should sleep, but sleep brought nightmares—or worse, happy dreams that had to end, sending him back to a bitter reality.

Normally, he would try to drink until he was unconscious; after all, he wasn't exactly going to die of alcohol poisoning any more than of sleep deprivation. Tonight was different though. He needed to think. He'd already made one dumb mistake, and that had been while sober.

_Why did I tell him about that, anyway?_ he wondered. Burying his face in his hands, Ivan thought back to the conversation he'd just had with Toris. _He's just a good listener, that's all_. _That's why I want to say stupid things to him all the time. At least he doesn't make fun of me…._

Ivan smiled, thinking about how Toris had been sitting right next to him; imagining what it would be like to wrap his arm around Toris and pull him even closer…. Well, he was cold and Toris was warm. What was wrong with that?

He wanted another conversation with Toris; he didn't care what it was about, he just wanted it. Laying his head down on his desk, Ivan imagined another night on the couch, just him and Toris, as they fell asleep together. _I'm grinning like an idiot_, Ivan thought, but he didn't care. Not really.

He could feel himself drifting off as he thought about Toris, the way he always seemed to be listening to him, the way he so genuinely _cared_. _He's such a good friend…._

The next day was no different than any other, though Ivan had decided to give Toris less work. Neither of them brought up their conversation, to Ivan's disappointment. Ivan had tried to talk to him a couple of times, but Toris would glance away, shifting his feet or tugging on his sleeve and Ivan would shut up, realizing that he'd never really be able to talk to Toris if he was so uncomfortable.

Toris was standing in Ivan's office, giving him some papers though Ivan didn't really care about that. It was late in the afternoon, and Toris was done working. He asked Ivan if there was anything else he needed, with a smile that said he'd be more than willing to do it, but he wasn't really paying attention. He was more focused on the way the sun was caught in Toris' hair, the warmth in his eyes….

"No, no; I don't need anything else," he said. Toris nodded and left.

He seemed happy to leave, and it took Ivan a moment to figure out why. _He's going to see Feliks._

The two had been working with varying degrees of success to help Toris regain independence. It wasn't what they were doing that really bothered Ivan, though; the thought of Toris spending time with Feliks—willingly putting Feliks before him—filled him with a fierce anger that burned at him. He was afraid of it, its violent desires; he'd never really _liked _Feliks, sure, but he suddenly had a desire to hurt him, and some of the ideas that came to mind were straight out of his worst nightmares. He hugged himself, as though keeping his hands preoccupied with that would keep him from hurting anyone.

Still, he decided to do his best to keep Toris with _him_, not Feliks.

A week passed; Ivan had been successful in keeping Toris with him in Moscow, though he seemed a bit worse for it. He had been somewhat less successful in getting Toris to have a real conversation with him.

He toyed with different ideas, but most of them came down to force, and he knew Toris well enough to know that wouldn't work. The others involved tricking him—spiking his drink, perhaps—but Ivan knew that those would only work once because Toris would make sure he didn't fall for it twice.

But if not by trickery or by force, then _how_? Maybe there was a milder way to trick him, in a way that wouldn't really feel like a trick.

Ivan smiled. He had an idea.

He could leave a book—not any book, one that his boss had banned, one that Toris would never leave lying around—where Toris would find it. He was sure that Toris knew where to return it, and he'd wait there for him. They'd be alone, and maybe, if it was late enough, Toris would be tired enough to talk to him normally.

He nodded to himself; it was a good plan, if he was careful with a few of the minor details….

Ivan had been waiting in the library for over an hour; everyone else had gone to bed some time ago—except for Toris. He'd made sure that Toris would be up this late so that his plan couldn't fail.

Still, he'd grown restless, begun to pace back and forth, pulling at his sleeves, glancing around as though Toris was a scary thing that lurked in the shadows. What if he hadn't noticed the book? What if he didn't know where it went? Ivan decided that he'd just leave soon, saving himself from embarrassment or hours of waiting.

_Five more minutes…._

Of course, he had no accurate way to measure the time, but that didn't stop him from trying.

At last, he heard the sound of the door opening and closing, the approaching sound of boots on carpet.

Toris walked quickly, scanning the labyrinth of shelves and the gaps between them, paranoid as he always was when he lived with Ivan that the bigger nation was waiting for him, would jump out at any moment demanding to know what he was doing….

He shivered and walked faster, cursing Raivis—who he was fairly certain had left the book lying so carelessly where Ivan's boss could see.

The moon was bright enough that he could see clearly, though its pale light cast sharp shadows. He tried to ignore them; God knew what monsters might be hiding there.

Finally, he found the shelf the book belonged to; he slid it into place and turned around so he could leave.

Ivan was standing a few inches away from him; Toris froze. He had been anticipating something like this, but he had no idea what to do now that it was actually happening.

"Ah, R- Russia—sir—I was just—"

"I know."

His face was blank, which made Toris wary. He stepped back into the bookshelf, trying frantically to remember if he's done or said anything he shouldn't have. Nothing came to mind, but Ivan wasn't very predictable, so he looked at the floor and wished his hands would stop shaking.

Ivan hesitated briefly before reaching out and brushing Toris' hair behind his ear. He ran the back of his hand down the smaller nation's neck, lingering where he could feel his racing pulse.

Toris could barely breathe; he tried to step back, but there was nowhere to go.

Ivan frowned. Toris was _so _much more than uncomfortable now, and he had no idea how to change that. But he was right _there_, so warm and alive even if the blood had drained from his face and he was trying to shrink in on himself until he disappeared. Abruptly, he grabbed Toris' face and forced him to look up at him.

He could feel how much Toris was shaking; his eyes were wide as he tried to find a way out of his suddenly very dangerous situation.

"Why are you so scared, Litva?" Ivan asked, tilting his head slightly to one side.

Toris was unable to say anything. Even if he could have found his voice, he had no idea what he would have said.

"You're not in trouble. I just want to talk to you."

"Oh," Toris managed. If Ivan expected anything else, he was disappointed; the two stood awkwardly for several minutes.

Ivan's hands were shaking slightly, and he hoped that Toris didn't notice. He was absolutely terrified of making a fool of himself again, though he was sure that Toris wouldn't tease him about it.

Toris had no idea what Ivan wanted to talk about; he wasn't in trouble, apparently, but Ivan volunteered no further conversation. He considered asking him, but his moods changed so quickly…. At any moment, he might grow bored or angry and Toris was the only one around to take it out on. He just wanted to leave; he thought he would have done anything to get out of the library and away from Ivan. He felt nauseous, he wanted to run, but Ivan hadn't moved, so he waited, terrified and confused, not sure why Ivan hadn't let go of him.

"I've been thinking about the other night," Ivan said, "and I—I really liked the conversation we had, and I've tried to talk to again, but you've been so…." He tried to find the right word but quickly gave up.

Toris seemed to start saying something, but thought better of it and remained silent.

Ivan leaned forward a little so he was even closer to Toris. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but they remained vague thoughts he couldn't quite form into words. A flicker of irritation crossed his eyes, and Toris flinched. Realizing that he'd only frightened him more, Ivan let go of Toris, instead grabbing the shelf about level with his shoulders; he was still trapped, but there was a bit more room to breathe.

Toris had pressed himself into the bookshelf until his back hurt, but he still tried to back away from Ivan, who was growing visibly angrier at Toris and himself. Toris wasn't able to meet his eyes; he glanced at the floor again, preparing to mutter some useless apology when Ivan did lose his temper.

That moment never came, however.

"Look at me, Litva," he ordered; Toris forced himself to obey. He couldn't work out any emotion in Ivan's face or voice again. It was difficult to remain absolutely still rather than make himself smaller, especially with Ivan towering over him, so close Toris could feel his breath.

Ivan's grip on the shelf tightened in an effort to stop his hands from shaking. At that moment, he could do anything to Toris, make him do anything at all, and they both knew it.

Toris, who looked as though he'd never been more afraid in his very long life, was trying not to duck under Ivan's arm and run; he wouldn't make it very far, and he certainly _would _be in trouble, but the idea was still appealing. Ivan was trying to decide what to do with his power; Toris was too afraid to have a conversation, he was sure of that, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun. He was also fairly certain that he'd messed up any hope of talking with Toris beyond repair. Toris was already trying to avoid him; he would without doubt try even harder after this.

Without really thinking, Ivan leaned forward and kissed Toris.

He had absolutely no idea what he was doing; he'd never kissed anyone before, and he had to admit that the thought of kissing another man had repulsed him until that moment. But Toris was so warm and solid beneath him, and his lips were so soft….

He could feel Toris' fear be replaced by surprise in the maybe ten seconds the kiss lasted; when he pulled away, Toris was staring at him, completely at a loss for any other reaction. Ivan didn't know how to tell him that he was just as surprised. He didn't really have to; Toris could see the expression on his face.

They stood there, staring at each other; Toris shocked beyond fear, Ivan now relying on the bookshelf for support. He tried to say something—exactly what that something was, he wasn't sure—but he couldn't find his voice.

Before Toris' surprise wore off, he turned and left, his face red with embarrassment. What had he just done?

Toris stood there still, alone and confused. Of all the things he'd expected Ivan to do, _that _had not been anywhere on the list.


	2. Reflections

The next day, Ivan stayed in his office alone; no one tried to talk to him, not even Natalya, and he was fine with that. He was mortified by what he'd done; he'd crossed too many lines- even aside from kissing another man, or someone who worked for him, Toris was in a relationship, albeit a complicated one, with Feliks.

The worst part was how much he'd liked it, how much he wanted to kiss him again. He lay his head on his desk and squeezed his eyes shut so hard he had a headache. Clasping his hands on his lap until his nails cut into his skin, he prayed for forgiveness and for his desire to go away. He felt unclean; what he'd done was wrong on so many levels, and enjoying it was only a million times worse.

But it had been such an _enjoyable_ thing; for a brief moment, Ivan had shared in Toris' warmth and life, and it had been wonderful, the best feeling in the world. Why shouldn't he want to feel that again? Was there really anything wrong with it?

Traditional thought said, yes, of course, it was wrong for a man to love another man. But traditional thought also said that he should agree with his boss no matter what, and that certainly wasn't the case.

He sighed. In any case, he couldn't have that sort of relationship with Toris, because Toris was already involved with someone—though even the brief thought of Feliks made him furious. No, he realized, not furious; jealous.

_Although_, Ivan thought, _the anger could very well be part of the jealously._

Still, the thought of a relationship with Toris…. Being able to spend more time with him, having conversations with him…. But Toris would never want it, not as long as he was with Feliks.

R_emove Feliks from the equation, then_, part of him said;_ No Feliks, no problem. It's not as though you've ever liked him, anyway._

Ivan shivered a little at that thought; he and Feliks might not be the best of friends, but hurting him would probably also hurt Toris, and Ivan certainly didn't want that.

_He'll get over it; he'll learn to want you_.

_That doesn't sound very nice_, Ivan thought.

_Who cares about_ nice_? Nice won't get you anywhere with Toris._

Ivan frowned, not sure if that was right or not. It certainly seemed a cruel way to win Toris over.

Toris was glad that Ivan had decided to spend the day locked up alone in his room. After what had happened the previous night…. He shivered. Why had Ivan kissed him? It had been so uncharacteristic of him….

But he wasn't willing to risk angering Ivan to ask him. It was bad enough that he was planning to see Feliks later, he didn't need to add anything to that. He tried to just accept it as one of Ivan's many inexplicable actions, but he couldn't. There was just some part of him that was certain there was something more to it than Ivan's randomness.

He couldn't have explained why, but Toris didn't tell anyone about the kiss, not even Feliks. No one assumed anything was wrong, or at least no more so than was usual. Perhaps because he wanted so much to dismiss it as a random, one-time occurance that didn't matter, or perhaps out of embarrassment for himself as well as Ivan, Toris went on as though absolutely nothing had happened. He didn't think that would have been possible if Ivan hadn't stayed away from him- and Toris was fairly sure he was what Ivan was avoiding- or if Feliks was more observant.

In any case, no one really had any reason to suspect anything. Unpredictable as he was, Ivan still had morals he stuck to, mostly, and he didn't share Feliks' belief that God was fine with any kind of couple. Even if that weren't the case... He'd never expected Ivan to try to do anything of the sort with him.

Toris sighed. Why was he trying to explain anything Ivan did? Hadn't he given up on that centuries ago?

But it was late by the time he'd returned from Feliks', and he wanted to go to bed. He doubted it would happen again, so there really was no use worrying about it.

Ivan didn't sleep that night. He told himself it was because of the nightmares, but he couldn't lie to himself very well.

In truth, it was this inability which caused his insomnia. He wanted to forget the kiss, wanted to pretend he only saw Toris as a friend, but he couldn't, and it was _awful_. He wanted to be with Toris more than anything else in the world, but it wasn't _right_, it wasn't _proper_.

And how could he face Toris again after what had happened? He thought that that would be a form of torture unto itself; the thought of looking at Toris, of interacting with him, after the kiss... He could always pretend it hadn't happened, but that seemed unfair. It had happened, for good or ill, and Ivan felt that he had to acknowledge that, even if Toris didn't want to.

But even thinking of talking to Toris about it made Ivan never want to leave his room again. He sighed. Any conversations with Toris would have to wait until tomorrow, anyway.


	3. Revelations

A week passed after the incident in the library, and then another, and another after that. Life had resumed as normal- or as normal as it ever was at Ivan's house- and no one but Ivan and Toris knew what had happened. Even they seemed to have forgotten about it.  
Toris for his part had finally convinced himself it had meant nothing and had moved on with his life without giving it another thought.  
Ivan found it much harder to ignore.  
How could he relax and move on when Toris _lived_ with him and worked for him? He saw him every _day_, how could he ignore him?  
And his desire to kiss Toris had only grown, to the point where it was maddening to be in the same room as him.  
Almost as maddening was Toris' apparent apathy regarding the kiss. Hadn't he been confused and shocked? Ivan could remember his reaction, so how could he have just moved on? Didn't he know that Ivan wanted him, in a different way than he'd ever wanted anyone? Didn't he understand his mad desire? Hadn't he ever felt this way?  
It occurred to him that he had, between Natalya and Feliks, but applying that kind of thinking to his sister made Ivan uncomfortable, and as for Feliks….  
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door; he frowned. He hadn't expected anyone to come visiting this time of day.  
"_Byvayut_!" he called, and Toris entered.  
Ivan stood to face him, a little surprised. What was Toris doing there? He didn't have papers, or tea, or... anything.  
"Ah... _privet_, Litva. I was not expecting you."  
"Y-yes, I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but your boss wanted to talk to you."  
"About what?"  
"I don't know."  
The emotionless look on his face said otherwise, but Ivan decided not to push him.  
"Oh. Well, then, I should go." But he couldn't quite bring himself to leave, not yet. His moments alone with Toris were precious, not to be wasted, no matter what his boss wanted.  
Toris had turned to leave, not paying attention to whether Ivan had done the same or not.  
"Litva?"  
Toris, about to open the door, paused and turned back to him.  
"Yes, sir?"  
"Come back here. I don't want to talk to my boss yet."  
Though he obeyed, Toris said, "Sir, he- he wanted to talk to you immediately-"  
"I don't care. I want to talk to you."  
Toris didn't say anything.  
"I've been thinking, Litva... About that night in the library."  
"Oh?" Toris tried not to act worried, but Ivan wasn't really paying attention to his reaction. He had a feeling that Ivan was really just talking to himself; thinking aloud, in a way.  
"Yes... At first, I- I wasn't sure about anything. Well, you know about- well, everything."  
_Everything_ was a broad subject, but Toris assumed Ivan meant his hesitations about kissing him. Maybe it hadn't been such a random occurrence after all.  
After a moment of silence, Toris realized Ivan wanted a response.  
"Oh- yes, I know. Sir."  
Ivan frowned. "There's- there's really no need to be so formal, T-toris. I think we've known each other long enough.  
"It's- it's rather old-fashioned in a way, too, don't you think?"  
"Sorry, s- Ivan." Toris didn't really think it was old-fashioned, as Ivan had said, but he didn't want to irritate him.  
"But- perhaps just if we're alone, da? I think that's better."  
Toris nodded hesitantly. "Yes, of course." The response was automatic, really, but Ivan didn't care.  
"Well, I was talking about the library.  
"I think, L-Toris, that I- I wouldn't mind kissing you again." Ivan was blushing furiously; that hadn't been what he'd wanted to say at all.  
It got the point across, though. Toris frowned at him.  
"Sir-"  
"Ivan."  
"_Russia_, all other things aside, I really don't think it's appropriate for us to- to pursue this kind of relationship."  
Ivan frowned at his distant formality. "What other things, Toris?"  
Uncomfortable with Ivan's casual use of his name, Toris said, "Well, for one thing- I don't- I don't return your feelings. _Sir_.  
"In any case, there's Feliks..."  
Ivan's face darkened, just as Toris knew it would.  
"I don't care about him."  
Toris sighed, unsurprised. "Yes, well, I do. I'm not going to go behind his ba-"  
Ivan pulled him close and kissed him mid-word. It had been even more impulsive than their first kiss, and much more awkward since Toris pushed against him.  
Ivan pulled away, taking Toris' wrists in his hand.  
"Shut up," he muttered.  
Toris glared at him. "No."  
Ivan pulled him close again, though the motion was made difficult by Toris trying to pull his hands free.  
"I said-"  
"I know what you said," Toris snapped. "I'm asking you to listen to what I have to say, for once. Just this once."  
Ivan scowled. "I'm listening."  
"I'm. Not. _Interested_. Look, I'm- I'm flattered. I guess. I just-  
"And even if I was interested, there are still a thousand reasons why it's a bad idea.  
"So don't- don't force me in-into this, alright? Please. Sir. Ivan."  
Ivan sighed. Part of him argued that Toris was his, that he could make him do whatever he wanted- though it technically wasn't true. But part of him wasn't so sure that expanded to romantic relationships.  
Besides, Toris was right. It was… unprofessional to be in a relationship with your employee. Immoral, even, whether Toris returned his feelings or not.  
And there was that pesky relationship with Feliks.  
I really should fix that, he thought.  
"Fine," he said out loud, taking a step back. "Fine. I won't push you into it. I'll try not to, at least. But only because you asked nicely.  
"I'll go back to acting like nothing happened between us. Would that make you happy?"  
His sarcasm made Toris nervous, but he remained silent.  
"Well?" Ivan demanded, his anger showing plainly on his face and in his voice.  
"Y-yes, sir," Toris mumbled. He tried to tell himself this was better than the alternative, but he was a horrible liar.  
Ivan pushed him back a little and stalked out of his office, hoping that whatever his boss had to say was important.

**_A/N  
Byvayut (бывают) - (Rus.; interjection) come in_**


End file.
